The Last Will And Confession of Belgrim Caw
by israefeli
Summary: A short story based on the TV show Walking dead giving a possible scenario of how the apocalypse started.


The Last Will and Confession of Belgrim Caw.

I would like it to be known that we never intended to destroy the human race. Quite the opposite. We were working to stop mass destruction. At the time, visions of being nominated for the Nobel Peace prize seeped into my daydreams. Now I fear that there is a dark and terrible place in Hell reserved for the likes of me. It is no solace to think that Hell will probably be a less horrifying place than the one I've helped create here on Earth.

Its my own fault for thinking nothing could go wrong. When the Secretary of Health and Human Services asked me to join an EPA special task force, I jumped at the chance. And why not? The other team members were Chuck Darabont and Anthony Aldard, peers who I had enjoyed working with many times in the past. I also had full access to one of the bureau's top facilities, The Clearwater Environmental Research Center, headed by my long time friend, Robert Moore.

Our mission - to protect America's water supplies from contamination by terrorists.

Of course it isn't easy to intentionally poison an entire water reservoir. The amount of contaminate needed to poison so large a quantity of water makes it impractical. And what the water doesn't dilute to harmless levels the filtering and purification systems would clean up.

But there are certain compounds and toxins that, even in quantities small enough to be manageable by a small group of people, could possibly taint an entire water system. They were the ones we needed to focus on.

It took three years, but we finally arrived at a solution that was nothing short of brilliant- A nanobot that could latch onto and remove the toxins. Appearing as a benign, microscopic mineral in the water, the nanobots would attach themselves to the unwanted chemicals. A special filter would capture the nanobots and the molecules that had stuck to them, removing them from the system.

We christened the nanobots Krin, after the nymphs who protect the fountains in Greece.

In our labs, using the most stringent controls, we tested the Krin over and over again. They worked flawlessly every time. Confident that we had the perfect system for protecting the nation's water supplies, I pushed to make our filtration system mandatory in every water purification plant in the country.

I didn't have to push very hard.

News broke that a disgruntled Puriti Industries employee went to work one night and released 4,000 gallons of a toxic chemical agent from one of the plants holding tanks. Right next to the facility was the county's water reservoir.

Hundreds became ill from the contaminated water. Two people died. After that, approval for our filtration system was given without anyone even asking what it was. It was enough for people to think that something was being done. It seemed that the hand of fate had intervened on our behalf. I never stopped to consider that fate's hand holds a double edged sword.

From our lab in the Clearwater complex, we watched as the filtration system was implemented across the country. Everything went so smoothly, we thought there was nothing left to do but congratulate ourselves and update our resumes. Little did we know that in three days time society would start to collapse.

Fools that we were, we didn't take the first reports of a problem seriously. The dead coming back to live? It sounded like just so much tabloid nonsense. Before the day was out though, Director Moore had announced that the stories were true. Washington had sent us warnings not to approach any of these walking dead, but to report them to the national guard. Soon, help from the outside would not be a option.

Over the next 24 hours reports flooded the TV, phones and internet. The walking dead were said to attack people and eat them. There were riots. Looting. Criminals roamed the streets killing and stealing.

Over the next two days the flood of horrific news subsided and then dried up altogether. Internet connections and phone networks stopped working. Robert had the gates locked to prevent any of the creatures or the looters from getting in. The facility's security forces were ordered to shoot anyone who tried to enter without clearance.

Darabont, Aldard and myself spent our time analyzing what data we did have from the filtration system monitoring. This revealed a new horror- the Krin had changed.

In the lab, the nanobots had been tested in a mineral and germ-free purified water solution. The only foreign agents they were allowed contact with were the toxins we were trying to remove.

The Krin were now out of the test tubes and in our water supplies. The natural minerals and bacteria suspended in the reservoir's water were something new to the them. Set in this new environment they rapidly started to mutate. But what had they mutated into? All we knew was that they had found a way to easily get through the filtering system.

None of us wanted to be the first to say it. It was easier to pretend it was a coincidence. Mutated nanobots in the nation's water supply? The dead rising up? What if...?

We had to capture one of the creatures.

One of the walking dead was shambling around outside a service entrance. Taking a few of our lab technicians with us, we thought to subdue it and bring it into the compound for our research.

It did not go well.

They are stronger and faster than they appear and have no concern for their own safety. In the end we had to run it over with a truck to stop it from killing Aldard. even worse, Three of our lab techs were bitten.

It didn't take long for us to realize that even a minor bite from one of those 'things' can prove fatal. Like the Komodo Dragon, the monster's bite transmits enough bacteria to quickly kill its prey by infection. Two of the wounded technicians died within hours. The third was less seriously bitten. A barrage of antibiotics kept him alive, though not for long. We just didn't think. How could we have been so stupid to have left him in the same room as bodies of the other two?

His screams only survived less than a minute. We ran to his cries for help, but he was already dead when we entered the room. The corpses of the other two technicians were feeding on him like hyenas. One of the security guards shot at them. Bullets ripping through their chests didn't bother them, but the sound of the gun drew their attention to the guard. Six or seven more shots were fired as the creatures walked towards him. Hands, grasping like claws, grabbed at him. A second guard fired at their heads. The corpse's fell to the floor, lifeless once again.

Its a poor thing to die among men of science. Sympathy for the victims, now twice dead, was soon replaced with a examination of what we had learned:

Gun shots to the heart and lungs didn't hurt them or stop their mobility- These were actual walking corpses.

A gun shot to the head did stop their movement- Something in the brain was still working.

An autopsy on the bodies confirmed our fears. The brains of the walking dead were saturated with the mutated Krin. Even more interesting was the brain of the technician who hadn't turned into a monster- yet. His brain did not have as many nanobots, but they were multiplying fast, feeding on and replacing the brain cells that had died. Also, the microscopic squatters seem particular about which parts of the brain they resided in. The colony took over most of the brain that was formerly used for reasoning, memory, and speech. They left alone the areas that controlled the more basic, primitive functions- hearing, sight, motor skills (i.e. the muscles), and the desire to eat.

The colony of interlinked nanobots also produced a surprisingly large amount of electricity. Enough, apparently, to send signals along the body's nervous system and to power the muscles.

Once again we were slow to realize what this meant. It became all to obvious when the body we were examining clumsily tried to grab me and bite my arm.

The same security guard who had put down the first two technicians had insisted on watching over us as we worked. Thank God he had more foresight than we did. The horror was dispatch with two gun shots even as it tried to pull me to its mouth. It would be an understatement to say that I was a little bit shaky after being assaulted by a corpse and having a gun go off in front of my face.

I was even shakier reporting to Robert Moore what we knew- The nanobots we had created were the cause of the walking dead epidemic. While concerned, he was impressed at the quick and efficient evolution of the Krin. In just a few days they had gone from cleaning up toxins to taking over the brains of the recently dead and commandeering their bodies. These hijacked corpses would then kill other people which would create more dead bodies for the nanobots to colonize.

Brain scans conducted on ourselves revealed that the Krin were already in our brains, laying dormant, waiting for us to die and free up what was for them prime real estate. Some of us had a worse infestation than others. This was probable due to diet. People who drank tap water or drinks made with tap water- such as sodas, beer, and juice from concentrate- had a higher amount of nanobots in their brain tissue. Those of us who drank spring water, or boiled their water (another plus for us tea drinkers) had much fewer. Over the next couple of days we would learn two more things.

The first thing- It was possible to neutralize the Krin. Nanobots, even these mutated ones, are simple creatures. To bring them down to their small size, only the minimum number of molecules and atoms are used. Now we knew what we were dealing with. It would only take a long sleepless week holed up in our lab to find a 'cocktail' that could short-out and dissolve the Krin.

We also noticed a disturbing symptom caused by the nanobots - In large enough numbers, the dormant Krin could clog up a living brain. The symptoms were subtle enough to go unnoticed- at first. Reduced empathy for others, increased aggression and paranoia, all of which could have been brought on by the stress of our circumstances.

As the level of Nanobots infesting the brain increases, the symptoms increase, eventually leading to sociopathic behavior remarkable for its level of violent, grandiose delusions. But, like everything else that had happened so far, the realization of how serious this problem was came to late.

That moment came when Robert called a meeting of all the head researchers and administrators. First he wanted to discuss the communications, or lack of communications, with Washington (or anyone outside of our complex for that matter). He thought it best that any and all correspondence anyone might manage to get by phone, radio, or internet be brought to him immediately. It was important to have as much information as possible about what was going on. It was also important to contain rumors that could cause panic. On a like note, it was advisable that no one leave the compound unless accompanied by one of our security forces. The complex itself was fenced in and well supplied with food. The security personal were all well armed and military trained. The safest place, he reassured us, was inside these fences.

Finally he turned to Darabont, Aldard and myself.

"Gentlemen. You have something to tell us?"

I wanted to savor the look on his face when we told him we had succeeded. Professor Darabont, much less patient than I, sprang to his feet holding up a bottle he had brought from the lab.

"We've found it!" he exclaimed. A smile covered his face. "A way to purge the body of the nanobots."

Robert leaned back in his chair and stared. He looked puzzled.

"Why would you do that?" he asked.

None of us really understood the question.

Darabont tried again.

"This solution can shut down the Krins and dissolve them. No more walking dead. We can save humanity!"

Rob gave the professor a long thoughtful look.

"Professor Darabont. I thought you were only observing the Krin. It saddens me to see you falling so far astray. Save humanity? You would doom it! The Krin are sacred. They are God's messengers. Through them the Rapture is possible. To harm them is an act against God."

"What?" Darabont asked in disbelieve. "What does that nonsense have to do with ending this epidemic? There isn't going to be any rapture. We have a cure!"

Moore stood, lifting a pistol from the table top.

The bottle Darabont was holding shattered with a thunderous explosion as Robert pulled the trigger.

"Are you mad?" Darabont screamed with rage, "This is our only chance!"

The second explosion sprayed blood over me. Darabont's body was throw back on to his chair like a discarded rag doll.

"Blasphemy!" Moore shouted before addressing the rest of us.

"We are The Shepherds of God. It was through my, our, work that the Krin were created. And through the Krin God's Judgment Day will be revealed."

None of us said a word. Was that really Robert standing before us? I didn't recognize him. A mask of self-righteous arrogance covered his face. He seemed to care little that there was blood on mine. The man who had just so casually murdered our friend and colleague was a stranger.

"Take him to Purgatory." The stranger commanded. Only now did I notice the security guards behind Moore. They stood stoic, unfazed by the ranting and the blood. Two of them took hold of Darabont's body and dragged it to the door.

Moore followed them through the door, but not before 'suggesting' we all stay seated until he returned.

I looked to the other administrators and scientists who sat around the table, hoping to see some sign of normalcy.

Many of them sat peacefully in their seats, wearing thin copies of the mask I had noticed on Robert. One of these smiled at me before offering some paper towels.

The rest sat nervously trying to avoid eye contact with the others. All avoided acknowledging the blood soaked seat beside me.

What had been going on during the week we were in the lab?

I was afraid to ask.

The answer came an hour later when Robert returned.

"Come." he stated. "Let us bear witness to our Brother's Salvation."

We followed him to the health and fitness center at the far end of the complex. A fence had been placed around the pool so that only the side with the diving board was open. Most of the people who worked at the complex were gathered around it. It was clear though that the fence wasn't to keep people out.

"Bel, you need to see this." he said and stepped onto the diving board. Below him, lying on one of the large, redish-brown splotchs that stained the waterless pool, lay Darabont's body.

"My friend!" he looked at me with a smile often seen on the obsessed and the beguiled. "We are here to bear witness to God's Judgment."

He walked out on the end of the diving board, turned his face to heaven and stretched out his arms. A notebook was in one hand. A pistol was in the other.

"For those that took pleasure in walking this earth shall continue to walk it, shadows mocking their lives of endless desire and avarice."

The pistol went off, the explosion rolling like thunder, echoing out of the empty pool. It literally woke the dead- for Darabont's body rolled over and clumsily stood up.

I had seen too much to be shocked. That is not to say a sickening feeling didn't fill my heart and stomach. It hurt to see what once had been a friend and co-worker lurching about the pool, sliding on the incline that separates the shallow end from the deep. The lack of body language was disturbing. The Krin only bothered to power the major muscle groups. The face showed only the slack lifelessness of a corpse. The eyes had become cloudy orbs, its sight so bad that it would often walk into the walls of the pool. And over this grotesque charade of humanity floated an equally grotesque charade of an avenging angel.

"Thank you God," the monster I had known as Robert said, "For letting us be a part of your divine plan!"

"Thank you God!" many of those watching parrotted. Some with enthusiasm, a few out of fear they were being watched.

"Thank you for making me the door through which your judgment shall be revealed!"

"Thank you!" His disciples repeated.

"And may we bestow mercy upon those unbelievers who deny your people!"

"Mercy! Mercy!" the crowd chanted.

Two of the security guards dragged some one through the crowd and dropped him in front of the diving board.

Moore strolled across the board to stand over the prisoner.

"Are you ready to be redeemed?" He asked.

It was Frank Kirkman , the Assistant Director of Operations. He was the one you went to for anything that didn't actually require Robert's signature. An energetic and efficient manger, he could at times be rigidly opinionated.

"For the love of God Moore!" He cried. "This is madness! Please, think of what you're doing!"

Moore stepped off of the board, slipping the gun and notebook into his pocket.

"Yes, for the love of God! I do this for the love of God!" He said, helping Frank To his feet. "As Prophets of His Rapture, we are here to free those who have failed to see the truth."

In one lightning fast motion, Moore grabbed Frank by his coat and threw him onto the diving board.

"No Robert, no!" Frank begged, positioning himself onto his hands and knees. "Please don't do this!"

Taking the gun back out of his pocket, Robert shook his head in disappointment.

"It is not me you should be begging for forgiveness, but God."

He punctuated the sentence by shooting Kirkman in the knee.

Moore stepped back onto the board and watched as Frank, crying in pain, slipped in his own blood and slide off.

Frank hit the pool floor with a smack and the cracking of bones. Even worse, the groans and the smell of blood gave the aimless thing-that-had-been-Darabont a sense of purpose. Kirkman's pathetic attempts to sit up were cut short as the creature fell upon him, its jaws opened wide.

The screaming, as much out of terror as pain, was unbearable. I wanted to run. I wanted him to be able to run. Instead I watched as a monster with no interest in killing, but only in devouring, took bite after bite out of its pleading, sobbing victim.

"Let you soul be released to heaven! Let your body remain here in Purgatory!" Robert commanded. "Let us all here bear witness to the horrors of the flesh!"

With that Frank Kirkman lay in a puddle of blood, still and silent . The walking dead continued to gorge.

Robert walked off the board and approached me. Adrenaline shot through my heart and brain. At my age of course the survival instinct of fight or flee is mostly flee. Terror induced paralyze was the only thing allowing me to hold my ground.

"Now Belgrim," he said. "You see the great purpose God uses us for."

I nodded obediently.

"Here," he put his hand into the pocket of his coat, trading the gun for the notebook he had been holding earlier. "Put your hand upon it. Inside is the formula God has bestowed upon us all for the birth of the Krin. Also I have written down the visions God has bestowed onto me alone. It is a sacred book. In time all of God's Chosen shall find solace in it."

My hand, trembling and still spotted with Darabont's blood, slowly rose up and lightly touched the Book of Robert.

"Belgrim Caw, will you join us as one of God's servants? To fulfill his word? To educate the ignorant? To battle blasphemy at its inception?"

Everyone watched, waiting to see if I was insane enough to say yes, or foolish enough to say no.

"Yes." I said weakly, "Of course Robert."

He smiled.

"Excellent. Now go, go and bring me the formula that Satan tricked you into making, hoping to destroy the Krin and prevent the Rapture."

"Yes," I mumbled, trying to look at Robert instead of a homicidal madman. "Of course. Right away."

Sweat dripped off of my forehead. It was clear that this could only end one way. I tried to walk, but stumbled, falling onto Robert. It has been many years since my physique has resembled anything close to athletic. Robert did his best to held up my weight, nearly falling over himself. He pushed me to an upright position, waiting to see if I could balance myself.

"There, there, my friend," he said, "The Lord's work will make you stronger- in time."

It was an attempt to encourage me, but what I'd seen of 'the lord's work' filled me with dread and nausea, not repose. I needed something else.

"Robert?" I asked, "Could I read it?" pointing to the sacred writing.

He looked at the book.

"Everyone should, must, read it." He finally announced. "But take care. It is the Word of Our Lord written by his Chosen Prophet."

Clutching the book to my chest, I thanked him, reassuring him that protecting it was my sworn duty.

Fear had made my legs weak and rubbery, but I managed to totter off with some semblance of sobriety.

I didn't go back to the lab though. What would be the point? All connections with the world- phone lines, internet, cell phones- had collapsed. It wouldn't be long before Robert purged the facility's computers of all 'heresy', 'blasphemy' and the cure.

Instead I came here- Kirkman's office on the top floor of the main building. The view is admirable, overlooking the river that the complex is named after and the peaceful looking hills and forests beyond. Another plus is the reinforced door. Kirkman was big on security. Robert's storm troopers wouldn't be here if Kirkman didn't believe we needed as much protection from terrorists as the president.

After locking it I sat down and flipped through the book of the Prophet Robert. Things were worse than I thought. He truly believed himself a prophet of the Rapture, God's Judgment Day. As the chosen prophet his mission was clear. He was to send his disciples out onto the world to spread not only the word of God according to Robert, but also the instruments of God's Water of Life. The Krin. There would be no rest for his apostles until this man-made plague covered the world.

The last chapter of the book held the formula for making the nanobots. Of course those not trained in the science may only see it as just so much academic graffiti.

I found a pen of the same color and carefully added the formula for the antidote. If the Book of Robert does spread over the country, at least the cure will go with it. Hopefully someone will see it there, a lamb in wolf's clothing.

Then I started to write this confession.

There are voices outside the door now. That means Robert has noticed that his pistol is missing. I had slipped it out of his pocket when he caught me stumbling. His guards found me faster than I thought though. In hindsight I wish I had thought to use the gun on Robert and then burned his book. Another thing to add it to my list of regrets.

I had also hoped to add the formula for the cure to this missive, but they're trying to smash the door in and I have no wish to become 'saved' like Darabont and Kirkman. The pistol is no match for their machine guns, but it'll only take one bullet to save me from Robert's Purgatory.

There's just enough time to put this into a plastic thermos and throw it out the window. Let the river below carry it were it may. To think that only a short while ago I was using super computers! Now I rely on a message in a bottle.

Their shooting at the door. I must finish and take my one shot as well. I can't undo the horror I've helped create and I have no desire to aid in its propagation. For those who find this- beware of Robert and his disciples, but do what ever it takes to get the formula from him.

May God then finally have mercy on us and forgive me the part I played.

Belgrim Caw


End file.
